this weekend

this weekend i painted a face onto my upper thigh
with henna
at first it looked like mud... a wide eyed pouty lipped generic well proportioned face
an elementary school art teachers lesson on how to draw a face...
drawn in strange smelling orange mud on my upper thigh.
it had huge eyes so it looked like my mom.
all the faces i draw from my mind look like my mom.
the mud peeled away and left the face there...
vague and faded... and orange.
henna
upside down when i stood up.

i went with some friends to a place i had never been before.
a place i had passed many times.
i didnt know it was there.
there, where it was, was between two huge mansions.
one mansion probobly owned the place.
the bit of left over hill between this house and that house...
there were stone steps...
uneven and invisible in the dark... leading down the hill
tawords the water and the reflection of the yellow sci-fi movie moon.

halfway down the hill was a sort of wooden porch...
sticking out from the grass...
it was a kind of look out...
there was a railing and a lamp post.
the lampost was on a wind caused slant... leaning back up the hill.
adam sat there and looked like a photograph i think ive seen,
of a skinny man leaning on a leaning lamp post.

we watched the oposite side of the river where two trains passed.
one train had silver windows and looked beautiful
one train had red windows and looked evil
we talked about fear.

we ran home and skipped and held hands in the street
and proclaimed ourselves leaders and ran to the front
and proclaimed ourselves followers and lagged behind
and then i tripped and skinned my knee and laughed till my heart fell out in the street.

and back in jakes kitchen i sat on the counter.
and looked down at my legs.
one was bleeding and one had an orange upside down portrait of my wide eyed mother.

we talked over eachother
about everything that was incredibly important and irrelivant and completely unable to be explained... ever
only able to be understood.
and got mad before we remembered not to care so much.
and then we got tired.

and then went to sleep

and then we woke up at seven... three hours later.

and i went to temple and the rabbi told us to look at the world through open eyes
and that if and when we did
we would never be cursed
with the kinds of curses that the young boy chanted from the torah in quick quiet hebrew...
curses like lonliness and sadness and paranoia.
curses that you cast on yourself by having narrow eyes...
and that you lift from yourself by having open eyes.

and i thought about the place halfway down the hill
between the two huge mansions
and about how wide my eyes must have been
pupils dilated in the dark
looking out over the river at the silver train and the red train
under the yellow sci-fi movie moon.

american beauty

yesterday i watched my scratched dvd of american beauty and had to take it out three times to skip a damaged scene.
its my friends dvd so ill have to buy him a new one
and then ill keep the scratched one
and im sure ill watch it in this choppy way many many more times. because ite perfect.
at the end of the movie the camera panned away from the straight leafless tree lined street of somewhere suburban in america
and kevin spacy told me to apreciate every single moment of my stupid little life.

so i went outside.
and saw that the right-after-rain-storm weather had turned my home into heaven

the sun was setting behind the barn in the field behind my house.
the sun was setting the way the sun sets after rain... lots and lots of colors and bright wet contrast... and mosture creating light lines...rays... wherever it reaches.

so i walked there... tawords the sun. tawords the barn. and as i neared it... it got dark and the sun dissapeared. because you cant see the sun stading directly underneath it.

so i continued around the barn... down the hill and then back up.

and when i got back to where i had started the whole image had setted with the sun...

but it was still a wet and beautiful and well contrasted world outside.
so i took my think blue racing bike with the spindly tires that remind me of tim burton's animated charecters and thier spindely legs...
and i took my dads old digital camera that clicks like its thinking whenever you zoom in or out.
and i road down the street...
and i stopped a few yards away from home.
and got off the bike and took some close up pictures of raindrops in grass.
then i went home.

in-between

I'm coughing.
I like being sick. I like being alone. I like in-between feelings like being lost or stranded or stuck.
In these situations there is apsolutlty nothing I can do about my situation and no one can fault me for it. I'm just exempt and excused from life for a few moments.
Also it’s like being in another reality.
If you’re lost there is nowhere else you can be- you’re just lost.

Unless a obligation interrupts your perfect in-between reality.
You’re lost but you’re also late… There is nothing worse than being nowhere, blissfully unconnected to everything real with the pull of an earthly-ambilical-cord of an appointment making it apsolutley nesessary to call someone from the real world and get directions back there.
Or to make sure that the snow plowing man is there are three am to shovel away the sow and ensure that your car will not be stuck

Id like to live my whole life being lost.
Drifting from one unannounced event to the next.
A life without time
A life without context
Only existence and enjoyment